Please Take Me Home
by Lord Rebecca-sama
Summary: Tony Stark didn't mean to time travel, but while he was there, he made a friend and stopped a few crimes as Sherlock Holmes, but he never stopped trying to get home. Mycroft and he had an agreement after all. Tony Stark is Sherlock Holmes story. Pepperony. No slash. Two-shot. Complete.
1. Tony Stark

**This chapter: Post-avengers, Pre-Iron Man 3**

_Please Take Me Home_

_Chapter One: Tony Stark_

Mycroft was having a good day. All of his investments were running smoothly and the English government had not yet collapsed.

A bright flash startled the large man from his afternoon cuppa and almost made him drop his biscuit.

A thin, black haired man was sprawled in the middle of his private room at the Diogenes Club. He had the strangest articles of clothing on: pants that were made from a rough looking blue material, a black shirt with short sleeves over a dark grey shirt—made from the same material—rolled up to his elbows, and shoes with soles that looked more black than the white they were supposed to be.

"Ugh," the man grunted, moving his arms to push himself up. Mycroft set his biscuit and tea cup back on the tray. He picked up the bell and rang it, signaling to the butler to bring another cup and more biscuits.

"Good man, are you alright?" Mycroft asked when the door shut once again.

The man groaned and managed to get onto his hands and knees. His dark shirt had a grey design with the letters ACDC in red painted onto it. There was a faint glow coming from under his clothes in the center of his chest.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"London. How is it you don't know where you are?" Mycroft would think that if one was teleporting (because what else would he call what just happened), one would know where they were going. The butler returned with the requested items and left.

The man knelt back on his knees and rubbed his head, smearing dark liquid onto his face and hair.

"Was working on something to travel faster. Some of the numbers were wrong. It went off and I ended up here."

"You're American."

The man nodded and rolled his eyes, mumbling "No shit." under his breath as he stood up. He started searching his pockets. "So what's your name?"

"Is it a custom in America to ask for someone else's name before giving your own?"

He looked up from the thin piece of glass in his hand that was tapping. "What?" Mycroft stared at him. "You mean, you _really_ don't know who I am?"

"No. Should I?"

The man stared in disbelief at Mycroft. "Well, most people do. Tony Stark."

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Stark. I'm Mycroft Holmes."

"Nice to meet you." He tapped again at the screen. "Hey, sorry, but I have to run. I was doing something important and I think I have a meeting soon. My cell can't get any signal, which should be impossible because I made it and I always have signal, but can I use your phone to call my girlfriend?"

"Sorry, phone?" The telephone was a still fairly recent invention that the Diogenes Club had not yet invested in, but seeing as a main rule was silence, it was understandable.

Stark waved the piece of glass in the air. "Yeah, like this, only probably less Stark tech and more Apple and AT&T."

"What does fruit have to do with the telephone?" Stark's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the gas lamps and lack of something that Mycroft couldn't figure. He slipped his impossible telephone back into his pocket and strode towards the window; the man threw open the curtain and stared out at the street.

"Well," Stark said, "this is new." He turned around, back to the window. "What's the year?"

"1885."

"Pepper is going to _kill_ me."

"Pepper?"

"My girlfriend."

Mycroft frowned. Who named their child Pepper? "Why don't you have a seat and share a cuppa with me." It wasn't really a question.

Stark sat down into the chair across from Mycroft.

"I am in such deep shit." Mycroft passed over a cup. "Got anything stronger than this?"

"I think you'll find an adequate amount of whiskey mixed in." Stark smiled and took a sip. "Now tell me, Mr. Stark, since you seem very out of place, what year were you hoping I said?"

"2012."

Mycroft took a sip of his tea. Either the man in front of him was insane, or he really traveled in time, and judging from the clothes, accent, and phone, he supposed it was the latter. "I assume England is still standing."

Stark looked questionably at Mycroft's question, but answered positively nonetheless. He put down his cup, which was now lightly stained with the black that covered his hair and clothes. He hoped that would wash out of the curtains and chair. "Listen, thanks for the tea and not shooting me on sight or something, but I really need to get going and figure out how I got here so I can get back."

Stark was halfway towards the door. "How?" He turned back to look at Mycroft.

"What?"

Mycroft took a bite of his biscuit. "You have no money, no connections, and your clothes make you stick out worse than the filth covering you.

Stark frowned. "What are you proposing?"

"I'll give you some start-up money and the connections you need to get home. You'll need to find your own source of income after the start-up funds run out, but I will not let you go hungry or homeless. Any equipment you may need, you have to buy yourself."

Stark eyed him. "Why are you helping me?"

Mycroft smiled. "Curiosity. You seem like a smart man, and I'm sure you'd be able to figure out a way home without my help, but why tempt fate? I figure a little money here will be beneficial in the long run. So, Mr. Stark, do we have an agreement?"

Stark smiled and shook Mycroft's outstretched hand (after he had tried to get most of the filth covering it off). "We do, Mr. Holmes."

"Excellent."

"Now, of course, I'll have to change my name. Can't have two Tony Starks running around in time."

"No, no that just won't do."

"Sherlock Holmes should work nicely," Stark said eating another biscuit.

Mycroft froze in his action of calling a butler to have his tailor fetched. "I'm sorry, I think I heard wrong. Did you just say Sherlock _Holmes_?"

Stark smiled and sipped at his tea. "I'll be your mysterious, genius younger brother who, until very recently, was deathly ill, but he had a miraculous recovery and is now living in London and looking for work."

"How do you explain your accent, then, Mr. Stark?"

Stark smirked and cleared his throat. "I'd say, brother, dear, my name is Sherlock Holmes. You best remember that, now that's a good chap," he said in a perfect British accent.

Mycroft looked shocked. Who knew that an American could copy his accent so well. "Well, that seems to be in order, then." He called in the butler. "I need you to send a message to my tailor to have him meet me at my townhouse and be ready to create an entire wardrobe for my brother."

"Yes, sir."

"Right, then, Sherlock, we best be on our way." He pulled his spare coat out of the closet and gave it a good shake. "This should cover up what you're currently wearing."

Stark took the coat and pulled it over his clothes, buttoning up the front. "When in Rome."

Mycroft smiled. "Indeed. Shall we?"

Stark nodded. "We shall."

_Iamalinebreak._

The start-up money Mycroft provided him with lasted half a year and that was only because Tony couldn't find all of the equipment he needed. He had to get pieces to build the equipment that he needed to build a machine to get home.

A year passed since he landed in 1885 and Tony was well known at Scotland Yard as a consulting detective. Most of the cases he was given were so painfully obvious, it was barely worth the effort, but it helped pay for his equipment.

Tony had set up a small welding studio in the back of his apartment where he had modified current smelting tools to suit his purposes. Currently, he was working on a way to disguise his arc reactor. The blue shone through some of his thinner shirts and he had found a betting pool for fighters he wanted to try for some extra cash. However, they had the unfortunate rule of no shirts, and he had a glowing blue beacon shining in his chest.

The rubber coating would be fused to a metal covering that should fit over his reactor. With the right amount of make-up and possibly paint (since it stays on longer), it should blend into the surrounding skin.

He was fusing two pieces together when the nanny knocked on his door.

"Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson shouted, opening the door.

Tony shut off the machine and flipped up his visor. "Yes, nanny?"

"The new tenant has just moved in and I was hoping you could come meet him."

He hopped off the bench and threw on an overcoat, wiping the grease off his hands onto a rag he had lying around. "I would love to, nanny. Thank you." He walked into the next room over and glanced around at the various belongings scattered around the room.

"Oh, hello," a man said from the doorway. "You must be Mr. Holmes in 221B. I'm—"

"Doctor John Watson, yes. Just back from a tour in Afghanistan. Medical discharge."

John blinked in disbelief. "I...what?" He cleared his throat. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Medical books. New editions as they update. A medical bag you have left by the door in case an emergency comes up, even though you just moved in. You're tan, but not above the wrists. You walk with a slight limp, but it's not terrible; you're still able to act quickly, but obviously not quickly enough for the army."

"Wow. That was amazing."

Tony smirked and walked back out towards his own apartment.

"I keep odd hours. I usually don't sleep for days on end, and if you hear any explosions from my rooms, stay away until I give the all clear. I have some very dangerous chemicals in various locations around my flat and they can react in some deadly ways. So, do be careful when you come and check on me in a day or so. Also, don't worry about getting a dog. The nanny doesn't mind and it would be a nice addition to the flats. Afternoon, Watson."

Tony could feel the good doctor staring at him as he shut the door. He couldn't wait to see what he'll do.

Two days later, Doctor John Watson knocked on Tony's door and let himself in after confirmation from the man.

Tony was working on the calculations for his new time machine. "Dr. Watson, good to see you. I'm surprised. I was sure you were going to stop by before you went to bed last night, but first thing this morning is good as well. I hope my violin playing last night didn't keep you up."

He gasped. "That was _playing_?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm not very good. I've only been playing for a year." It was more of a hobby than anything else, but without video games and movies to keep his mind distracted, he decided to start playing an instrument. Although, he soon remembered why the piano was never a pursued route after his first lesson when he was little. He was terrible. Sure, Tony could build an engine from scratch, but he couldn't hold a note to save his life.

"How did you know I was looking at dogs?"

"Small hairs on your legs. Obviously not from a girlfriend or family's pet, since you just got back, but not from a stray, either. You aren't the type to stop and pet a most likely feral animal. No, there are several different dog hairs on your legs, which means you looked at a variety of dogs at the pound to try and find one you like."

"How do you know this?"

"I don't know. I observe."

John was silent and Tony went back to staring at the calculations. There had to be _something_ he missed. "When was the last time you slept, Mr. Holmes?"

Tony jumped, confused by the change of topic. "I slept for an hour last night?" he said as a question.

"I meant a full night's rest." Obviously that was the wrong answer.

Tony paused, thinking, but was saved by the timely intrusion of Inspector Lestrade. "Ah, Lestrade, lovely timing, as always. What can I help you with today?"

"There's been a murder in Hyde Park. No foot prints or any obvious cause of death."

"Well then Inspector, we best be going then. We'll meet you out front." The inspector left. "Come along, Watson." Tony grabbed his coat and scarf, buttoning them on.

"Wait, _we_?" John asked.

Tony spun around. "You're a medical doctor. There is a dead body, and I am not learned in the ways of anatomy like a trained medical professional is. The Yard does not provide someone at the site to do a preliminary examination. Your input would be a great help."

"What is it that you _do_ for the Yard?"

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one of my kind. When the police are out of their depth, they call upon me. Now, do keep up, Watson, the day is wasting."

Tony walked out and got in the cab, John a second behind him. "Just this once, Holmes, I do have patients."

Tony smiled. "Of course."

_Iamalinebreak._

Of course "once" became almost every few days, once a week if John was lucky.

In March 1888, Tony met _The Woman_, or as she was known to the world, Irene Adler. If he was still in his time, he would've stayed _far_ away from her. She was the type of woman who would bring him to his knees, and not in the way he really wanted to be.

"Holmes," John said from over by the window.

"What is it, Watson?" Tony asked. He was trying to figure out just what went wrong with his numbers that caused his jump back in time, but the figures that he got from JARVIS all show that this shouldn't have happened. The machine was mostly built. Just a few more internal parts were needed before it was usable.

"What is this thin piece of glass hooked up to a generator over here by the window?"

"Just a side project. I'm trying to see if I can harness the sun's energy and convert it into energy to power that small device." He could; that was a no brainer. It was just a manner of making the proper cord to connect the solar charger to the port in his phone.

"The piece of glass?"

"Yes, it lights up."

"Brilliant."

"Mmhmm." It was really a wonder that he was able to keep his old cell phone a secret from John for two years. It was a mystery how he was able to keep his reactor and history a secret, as well.

"Irene Adler," John said.

"What about her?"

"Do we just let her go free?"

"We have no control over her actions. It's better for all involved, anyway. Now, Watson, please do be quiet."

John scowled but settled down with his paper.

A half hour later, and still no new results, Tony stalked over and grabbed his phone from his homemade charger. "JARVIS," Tony said quietly in an American accent, "run those calculations again, but add in excess energy from the surrounding lab and see if that had anything to do with it."

_Running, sir,_ JARVIS replied in type across the screen.

Tony glanced back and forth from his phone to the chalkboard, where he scribbled down the information JARVIS provided. Tony was forever grateful he made sure that JARVIS synced with the phone every second. It allowed him to have all the data he would need for a jump though time in the past. Without it, he was sure doing the calculations to get home would've been more difficult. Not impossible, but very difficult.

_iamabreak_

John had stopped reading his paper when Holmes stood up. That piece of glass was a strange thing, and now Holmes was talking to it. Information flowed onto the chalkboard. Information about temperatures and chemical levels, as well as a list of people and times.

"Everything was normal," he mumbled in an American accent. Strange. John had never noticed an American accent on Holmes before. "No one was in the lab area during the testing phase except for me. JARVIS, run the scans, taking gamma radiation into account. Even though Bruce wasn't there, maybe some radiation leaked onto my clothes or into the suits." He slipped the glass into his pocket.

"Who are you talking to, Holmes?"

He looked up in shock at John. "What?" he asked, accent still wrong. He cleared his throat. "No one. Just myself. It helps me think."

"Okay," John said, putting it out of his mind.

He didn't think of the incident again until a year and a half later when he met Mycroft Holmes for the first time in September of 1889.

"Are you any closer to finding a way home?" Holmes Senior asked. John stopped outside his friend's door.

"I've built the machine, but I can't figure out what went wrong," Holmes replied. "Are you _sure_ nothing weird happened that day. Anything alieny or strange that might have been mistaken for magic."

"I've told you before, Sherlock, it was a normal day. I've had my contacts check all over the world. It was normal." Holmes groaned. Mycroft said something too quiet for John to hear. Holmes spoke back before walking towards the door. John scrambled back.

"Watson, it's rude to eavesdrop."

"What? You do it all the time!"

"I have a reason. Now, Mycroft, you did agree to take us out for dinner. Lead the way, brother dear."

John had never seen Holmes drink so much, let alone at dinner, before. It turned out, however, he was a talkative drunk. They were on their way back to Baker Street with Holmes' arm slung over his shoulder. John had suggested they walk to help Holmes work off the alcohol.

"I wassn't always here, ya know," he slurred, the American accent he heard before slipping through. "I was famous! An' every-everyone knew who I was. I-I had money. Tooooons of money. An' thhhree good friends. 'Cept Rhodey stole my suit an' destroyed my 'ouse. An' Pep became my girl. 'Ave I ever told you about her, Watson?"

"No, Holmes."

"Virginia 'Pepper' Potts." He popped the 'p's. "Best damn CEO anyone could 'ave. She's gonna _kill_ me when I get 'ome. Four years without a call. I'll be lucky if I keep my balls." He started laughing.

"Come on, Holmes, we're almost there." John paused to unlock the front door. He turned back to Holmes who stood before the stairs looking at the ground. "Holmes?"

"You should find someone, Watson. Someone away from all this runnin' around chasing criminals. It'll be good for you." His accent was slipping in and out between American and English.

"Holmes, what are you talking about?" Holmes walked up the steps and into the foyer. He turned and looked John in the eyes. He didn't look as drunk as he did a minute ago.

"People around me always get hurt, Watson. Find someone else and get out of this mess before I drag you deeper."

John watched Holmes drag himself up the stairs and shut himself in his room. What was he missing?

_Iamalinebreak._

"Holmes!" John yelled. Tony startled awake and fell off his bed. He groaned and held his head in his hand. He'd rather wake up to JARVIS. They had just finished Blackwood's case and Tony needed a good night's sleep, which he got, until John barged in and shouted his name.

"What is it, Watson?" he shouted back.

"You didn't send word after we parted ways last night. I came by to check on you."

Tony nodded and focused on standing up. "I'm fine, dear boy. Help me up, would you."

John grabbed onto Tony's hand and pulled him up. Tony yawned and shuffled past John into the kitchen.

"I need coffee," he mumbled, digging out a coffee tin from the back of the cabinet. "You want any coffee, Watson?"

"Erm, no thank you, Holmes. Since when have you liked coffee?"

Tony looked away from the tea pot he put on the stove. "I always have, it's just expensive, although after our success last night, it seems like an adequate reward. Tea then?"

"Yes, please."

Tony poured the hot water over coffee grounds and tea in their respective mugs. He grabbed his mug and inhaled the fragrant smell he so dearly missed on those late nights working.

"Thank you." John took a sip of his tea. "Holmes, are you sure that you're alright?"

"Yes, of course, I'm fine. Why do you keep asking?"

"Your chest has a glowing blue circle coming from it."

Tony's eyes widened and he looked down at the arc reactor shining through his thin white night shirt. _Well, shit._

"It's nothing, Watson." He downed the rest of his glass of coffee. "If you'd excuse me a moment."

Tony disappeared back into his room and dug around in his closet for a darker shirt. He had to fix the cover, so he couldn't just snap it on.

Where were all his shirts? Tony slammed the door shut. Right, he threw one off the other day onto the doorknob. That would be dark enough without layering. Tony pulled off his shirt and turned back towards the door to grab the leftover shirt. He froze, hand outstretched towards it. John was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, gaze locked on the arc reactor. His arms loosened with shock and fell down to his sides.

"Wah-what?" he asked.

Tony was never ashamed of his arc reactor. After the Stane incident, he hid it better under his band shirts and suits, but he was never ashamed by it. However, he did have a good reason for hiding it while in 1890.

"Do be more precise, Watson."

John swallowed. "What is that?" he asked nervously.

"It keeps me alive," Tony replied, avoiding the question. John walked closer and reached out to touch it. Tony took a half step back. "Uh, I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Sorry, but Holmes, it's _inside_ your sternum."

"Yes."

"How? Why? Does it hurt?"

Tony reached around the doctor and pulled the brown shirt towards him and slid it on.

"I was in an accident and, as a result, I have a heart condition. This," He tapped the front of the reactor with a finger. "keeps me alive. It doesn't hurt. Makes everything taste kind of like metal and coconut."

"Why have I never seen this before?"

Tony led John to his work bench and held out the cover plate with the fake skin. "I usually wear this over it, but it got damaged recently, so I took it off to fix it."

"How long have you had..._that_ inside you?"

"I call it an arc reactor. Think of it as a fancy electromagnet. Seven years."

"What?!" John shouted.

Tony frowned at him. "Why are you getting all flustered?"

"Why have you never told me about this? What if it stopped working and you starting dying? I'm a doctor; I need to know these things."

"Even if you'd have known, you couldn't do anything about it. If the reactor stopped working, I'd go into cardiac arrest and die in three minutes. Short of making another one, there would be nothing you could do to help me." Tony poured himself a glass of scotch and downed the entire thing before pouring another.

"Should you be drinking with your heart condition?"

Tony barked a laugh. "That's the other reason why I never told you, Watson. You wouldn't have let me do anything _fun_! The reactor will power someone for fifty lifetimes. You may not have noticed since we've known each other for only four years, but I don't age as fast as I used to." He would outlive all his friends. Tony hadn't found out about that quirk of the reactor until he had been in London for a year. He didn't look like he aged more than a few months. Maybe he'd live long enough to see Pepper again if he didn't get the time machine working.

It seems that Watson realized the downside to aging slower. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Holmes."

Tony forced a small smile. "It's quite alright." Tony put the now empty glass down. "Watson, I should've told you, and I didn't. I'm sorry." He walked up to Watson. "If anything should happen to cause me to go into cardiac arrest, the first thing you need to do, before you do any other type of treatment, is to make sure this is glowing and fully snapped into my chest." Tony demonstrated how the arc reactor was removed and how to click it back in. "You got that, Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes." Tony nodded and went over to the counter to pick up today's paper that Mrs. Hudson dropped off that morning. "Thank you for trusting me, Holmes." Tony grunted and focused on his paper until John left.

_Iamalinebreak._

Another year passed and Holmes and John were going against Moriarty. They were on a train to Switzerland and Holmes wasn't breathing. John looked up.

He set aside what was in his hands and felt for a pulse.

"Cradle his head," he said to Simza, and to Tamas, "Raise his legs. Bloody well not going to die on me."

John took a deep breath and undid Holmes' coat and shirt. He had to make sure the arc reactor was working. He felt for the edge of the cover and clicked it off, setting it to the side for Holmes to put back on later. The reactor was still glowing despite the two-inch, hairline crack on the glass surface. He pulled out the reactor and checked all of the cords running into it. They looked fine, so he pushed the glowing device back into his friend's chest and clicked it into position.

"What is that?" Simza asked.

"Doesn't matter." John started chest compressions, trying to restart his heart. The arc reactor was useless if his heart wasn't even beating. "I'm not going to make this easy on you. Come on. Come on, come on. Come on!" John punched his chest. "I know you can hear me, you selfish bastard. Come on!" John was frantic. Holmes _had _to wake up. "I know you can hear me, you bastard." His heart wasn't starting. Simza grabbed onto him and pulled him away from Holmes' body. She hugged him. Tamas put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

John sighed and Simza let him go. He stared at Holmes. This wasn't right. He couldn't fight Moriarty alone. There had to be something—"His wedding gift."

"What?"

"Hold his clothes out of the way of his heart." Simza did.

John pulled the small leather case from his pockets and gently removed the needle from its holding place. He pulled out the stopper with his teeth and injected it into Holmes' heart. _Come on, Holmes._

The three stared at Holmes, hoping something—anything—would happen.

Holmes' eyes snapped open and he started screaming. He jumped up and ran all the way to the end of the train car.

"I had a terrible dream," he mumbled in an American accent. "You were marrying Gladstone and I was in a restaurant. That satanic pony was there as well! A massive fork in his hoof and he turned on me!" Holmes turned back to John. "What have you given me?"

John held up the empty needle. "Your wedding present."

He felt his chest and arc reactor. "Who's been dancing on my chest?"

"Me."

"Why is my ankle so itchy?"

"Because you have a large piece of wood sticking out of it." John pushed Holmes onto a crate in the corner.

"Oh, good lord."

"Sit down, and drink this." John pulled Holmes' legs up. "I have to get that out before it turns septic." Holmes drank the medication.

"Did you call me a selfish bastard?" he asked, no longer speaking with an American accent.

"Probably." John grabbed onto the wood.

"Just leave it in. Leave it in!" He pulled it out. Holmes hissed in pain.

"Oh you, you are so subtle."

"Be nice."

John started cleaning the wound and stitching it up.

Holmes opened his shirt and looked over the arc reactor, making sure it was snapped in correctly.

"Twice in a lifetime is one too many times for my heart to stop," he mumbled.

"What, Holmes?" John shouted.

"Nothing."

"When this is over, Holmes, no more secrets, okay."

Holmes nodded. He pulled out the reactor and looked it over, tapping at the glass where it cracked. He hit himself on the forehead. "I'm a goddamned idiot." He accent slipped again. "Hairline fracture leaking would cause the numbers of be off." He put the reactor back into his chest before buttoning up his shirt. "Of course." The cover lay forgotten on the floor.

"What is he talking about?" Simza asked.

"I have no idea."

Holmes rummaged in his pockets and pulled out the piece of glass he always carries with him. He holds down a button which causes the glass to light up with words and pictures.

"JARVIS," There was that name again. Every once and a while, Holmes would mutter to someone named Jarvis. "run the numbers again but with the addition of leakage from the reactor with the new core." Words flashed on the screen.

"Holmes?" John asked his friend.

"Not now, Watson," he replied, staring at the device.

Holmes spent the next hour of the train ride bent over the small glass rectangle in his hand, muttering down at it and reading what flashed on the screen. John had only ever seen him this focused on that machine he was constantly tinkering with in the corner of his flat.

Holmes sighed and rubbed his forehead, putting the glass away.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to Brighton."

John smiled. "Me too. I think we should go home."

"I concur. We're going home." John sighed. _Thank god._ "Via Switzerland." Of bloody course. "What better place to start a war than a peace summit?" John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was Holmes thinking? "We'll drop in to see my brother. I'm sure he's missed you."

John shook his head and leaned back. It's not like he could talk Holmes out of it.

_Iamalinebreak._

Plans don't always go how their supposed to. Tony wasn't one for plans, anyway. It wasn't Plan A to fall off the Falls with Moriarty and survive with the breathing apparatus he stole from Mycroft. That was Plan C, actually.

Plan A was to push Moriarty off by himself. Plan B was John coming in and helping Tony with the Professor.

He stared at John's distraught face the second before he pulled Moriarty backwards. Tony was always sacrificing himself for others. It's just how it happened. He would protect his friends, even though he always ended up hurting them. He hated not telling John who he really was on the ride over, but he couldn't. If the latest calculations didn't work, he was stuck. He couldn't think of any other solutions to get home besides wait out time and hoped he lived that long.

Falling was nice. Tony liked falling. He liked falling inside of his Iron Man suit better, though. Usually falling could be stopped by some thrusters. Tony sucked in a large breath and clenched his eyes tight right before landing in the frigid water. The air was forced out of his lungs. He managed to put the oxygen mask over his mouth before taking a much needed breath of air.

Tony followed his escaping bubbles of air towards the surface. He was able to get himself out of the water and onto the rocks before any hypothermia sunk in, but it wouldn't matter if he didn't get some dry clothes soon.

He made his way to the town and stole the first set of clothes that fit that he could find and mailed the oxygen mask to John. It would take a couple months to reach him. Sure, it was mean to give him false hope that he was alive, but if the calculations didn't work, Tony would need to be able come back without the people accusing him of witchcraft.

A week later, Tony was unlocking 221 Baker Street's front door. He didn't disturb Mrs. Hudson. Merely walked upstairs and pulled up the final numbers from his phone to enter onto the machine.

The final design of the device looked like a fat, pancake-like disk on the ground connected to a large generator.

Tony changed into the clothes he came in, left a note for Mycroft and vanished in a flash of blue and a loud bang.

_Iamalinebreak._

Mrs. Hudson had sent for Mycroft the minute she woke up (Not even a minute after Sherlock vanished. It was the bang that woke her.) and saw the remains of a small explosion in Sherlock's flat.

Mycroft picked his way through the still jungle-like flat over to the workstation in the corner. Sitting on the desk was a letter addressed to him.

_Mycroft,_

_I wish I could say this to you in person, but there's no telling when John will be here to pack up my flat. I can't have him see me. Not yet. If all goes right, I won't see him ever again. Which is both a blessing and a curse._

_Thank you, Mycroft Holmes, for trusting a stranger covered in grease who appeared during tea time. Thank you for helping me all these years. Sorry I stole your oxygen mask. John should be getting it in the mail in a month or so, I figure._

_Tell John, if there's a chance in his lifetime, to invest in Stark Industries. If not him, his children or grandkids. It'll pay off in a eighty or so years. I figure I should pay him back for all the trouble I've caused him._

_I've really appreciated all you have done for me._

_Thanks,_

_Anthony Edward Stark  
(aka Sherlock Holmes)_

Mycroft tucked the letter away and went home to pen a response. He would leave it to be delivered to Anthony Stark in 2012 to his house in Malibu. He did have an address, after all.

_Iamalinebreak._

Tony crashed onto the ground, smooth concrete beneath his fingers.

"_Welcome home, sir. Should I sync the data from the phone with the mainframe?_" JARVIS asked from the lab speakers.

"Sync and catalog, JARVIS," he gasped out.

He coughed a few times, trying to catch his breath again. Coming back hurt a lot more than leaving.

"_Sir, Miss. Potts is approaching_."

"Thanks, Jarv."

Tony looked up at the furious face of his girlfriend who was punching in her key code. Oh, how he missed her face.

"Anthony Edward Stark." Tony winced. It was really bad when she used his whole name. He stood up and rubbed his head, getting the dust out of the longer curls. "Do you have _any_ idea how tough its been to run damage control this week?" she raged. "You disappear off the face of the earth. No one can get a hold of you. JARVIS couldn't find you. I was worried something terr-mmph—"

Tony kissed her. Six years without her kisses (or anyone's kisses, really. Six years without sex was a long time for him) finally caught up with him and he couldn't wait any longer. He broke off when they needed to breath and hugged her tight.

"Tony?" she asked, hugging him back, her anger gone for the moment.

"I thought I would never see you again," he whispered. "For the longest time, I couldn't figure out how I ended up back there. My only thought was of you and how I was leaving you alone here." He pulled back and looked her in the eye. "I couldn't do that to you, Pep."

"Tony, what are you talking about? You've been gone six days."

Tony laughed humorlessly. "Try six years, Pep." He pulled out of the hug. "JARVIS, pull up photos and videos."

Photos he had taken with his phone showed up on the floating displays along with a few videos of the London streets.

"What are you showing me?" she asked.

"London, 1885 until 1891. I couldn't fake this, Pep, not in a week. I may be powerful, but I'm not this good. You know that. I was sent back in time to 1885. I pretended to be someone else to earn money to get home. JARVIS, pull up a picture of Sherlock Holmes."

Numerous images of Sherlock Holmes from newspapers showed up on the displays. Images of Tony Stark's face were everywhere.

Pepper turned back to Tony after gaping at her boyfriend's face covering nineteenth century newspapers. She threw the pile of letters (which contained a post-dated letter from Mycroft, where it was found a week later after DUM-E almost spilled smoothie on it) in her hands onto a table.

"Start from the beginning, now."

* * *

**next (and final) chapter up in a couple days.**


	2. John Watson

**This chapter: Post-Iron Man 3, Pre-Thor: The Dark World  
**

_Please Take Me Home_

_Chapter Two: John Watson_

"_Sir, Doctor John Watson has appeared in the main lab,_" JARVIS announced.

Tony choked on his coffee. "What?" Pepper hit him on his back.

"_Shall I lock-down the lab equipment, sir?_"

"Yes, JARVIS," Pepper replied. "Tony will be down in a sec. Explain."

Tony took another sip of coffee to clear his throat after his coughing fit. "I don't know. I didn't plan for him to appear in the lab, if that's what you're asking."

"Sorry," Bruce said, "but what are you talking about?" Bruce had moved into the tower after the Chitauri battle. Tony and Pepper joined him after their Malibu home was blown up. It was still being rebuilt.

"You remember that teleporter we were working on. I disappeared for six days and when I got back I shut down any work on it?"

Bruce nodded.

"Well, some excess energy was leaking from my old arc reactor and it caused the machine to malfunction. Instead of teleporting me across the room, I was sent back to London in 1885. I changed my name and made a few friends. One of who is downstairs."

"Alright, I get that part," Pepper said, "but how did he end up downstairs is what I want to know."

"Mycroft must've never destroyed the time machine I built. Watson touched something as he was cleaning out my mini lab and was sent here."

"Why here and not Malibu?" Pepper asked.

Tony grimaced. "I brought the machine here when I decided to scrap the idea. It didn't end up in the ocean with the rest of my lab."

"You had the one in the past lock onto the one here." Bruce said.

"Yes, exactly. That way I would've ended up in Malibu and not in someone's house in London."

Pepper sighed. "Well, go get him and I hope you can get him home. I'll meet him tonight. I have to get to work." They kissed and she left.

"I'll be right back," Tony said. Bruce nodded and went back to his paper.

_iamabreak_

"Ugh," John groaned, trying to sit up. "Bloody hell, Holmes. Not even around and you still make my life hell." John managed to get onto his knees. A large black arm-like thing rolled towards him and made some chirping noises. John yelped and scrambled backwards. It's claw opened and closed a few times before it rolled away.

John took a deep breath and stood up. The room he was in had smooth concrete floors and shiny metal tabletops; the lights were a bright white that nearly blinded him when he looked up. Parts of what looked like an engine rested off to a side on one table, and a dissembled arm was held up on another. The table behind him had a microscope with tubes full of colored liquid.

A loud grinding noise came out of the corner where the arm thing had turned something on.

"What the bloody hell?" It wasn't hurting anything, so he would worry about that later. He had to get out of here and figure out where he was.

He stood up and walked over to the door and pulled at it, but it didn't open. Pushing yielded the same results. There was no discernable lock on the door. It just didn't open. Okay, plan B, then. He would kick it down. He backed-up as far as he could to get a running start. He tensed.

"_I would advise against that, Dr. Watson_," a voice from nowhere said.

John pulled his gun and spun around, looking for the voice. "Who are you? Show yourself!"

"_I'm JARVIS. Sir has asked me to inform you that the lab is in lock-down, don't break anything, and he's on his way down._"

So, _this_ was the mysterious Jarvis that Holmes was always talking to? If it was, how could he talk to him without anyone else being in the room?

The arm thing rolled back over to him with a glass clenched in its claw. It held it out to John.

"Erm, no thank you," he said to it. It shook the cup slightly, causing the black sludge to spill over the edge, and rolled closer, holding it out. John took it, hoping that the arm thing would go away. "Thanks." He eyed the machine. It backed up a bit, but stared at him, waiting for something. Probably for John to drink it.

The door clicked open. "I wouldn't drink that if I was you," Holmes said in that American accent of his. John turned back to his old friend and stared. "DUM-E, what did I tell you about making smoothies?" He was talking to the arm thing. Holmes pushed past John and pet it on the top of it's claw, then started nudging it over to the dirty counter. "Look at the mess you made. Clean it up. I want these counters spotless when I come back down later, or I'll donate you to MIT to be used as a coat rack. Come on," he said. The thing picked up a rag and started to push the sludge around on the counter, making more of a mess than cleaning it.

Holmes scoffed at its actions, but turned back towards John and rolled his eyes. "Here, let me have that," Holmes said, taking the glass out of his hand and throwing the liquid down a sink.

John couldn't believe what he was seeing. Sure, he knew Holmes was alive, but to see him here in this foreign place. He had on the strangest clothes: rough blue pants with a brown shirt with the sleeves scrunched up to his elbows. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and styled. Not a hair was out of place. The thing that struck him the most was the lack of glowing blue under his shirt. Even with the cover, John could sometimes pick out the faintest of glows, but it was missing.

"You okay, Watson?" he asked.

"You're alive."

"Yes, I am. You knew that, though. It's been three months since we last saw each other and I was sure you would've gotten the parcel I sent by now."

"I did, but how are you alive?"

Holmes stared at Watson. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"The arc reactor is gone."

"What? Oh, yeah. Don't need it anymore. My heart condition is all fixed, promise. Now, why don't we head on upstairs. You can see the rest of the tower, meet Bruce, and we can get you up to speed before we send you home."

Holmes pulled open the door with no resistance and pushed Watson out. "JARVIS, put the lab back into standby mode, and watch DUM-E. If he breaks anything, he's getting donated."

"_Of course, sir_." The lights behind him dimmed and there was a loud crash. Holmes groaned and started muttering under his breath.

"This way, Watson." Holmes led him into a lift. He pressed the one labeled 'Penthouse' and the doors shut.

It was the most silent lift ride he had ever experienced. There was no jerking motions or grinding gears. It hardly felt like they were moving at all. The doors opened to a large open space. Holmes led him into a kitchen nook, away from the large living room with the floor to ceiling windows that looked over a large city.

The kitchen had smooth cabinets and a large stove and oven with eight burners along the back wall. At the other end of the counter there was a large metal cabinet. In the middle, there was a breakfast bar with a sink on one side and chairs crowding the other.

"Holmes, where are we?"

"Avengers Tower in New York City." He poured coffee into a mug. "Tea, Watson?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

"Bruce, do you mind?"

"No, go ahead," a man said, coming into the kitchen. He was soft-spoken and wore khaki pants with a purple shirt. He pushed his glasses up his nose. Tony poured a glass of tea and pushed it to John with cream and sugar. "Director Fury's on the phone for you."

"Shit." Holmes pulled out that piece of glass he always carried around. "JARVIS, connect me. Fury, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Stark! There was an energy surge over the tower. Care to explain that?" Holmes shrugged.

"We blew something up in the lab. It happens, no harm done. No Hulk rampaging around the tower. Calm down. I can see your eye-patch smoking." Bruce stifled a laugh, but someone on Fury's end didn't. "Hey, is Clint there? Tell him his new arrowheads are ready for pick-up if he wants to stop by."

"I am not a messenger for you, Stark!"

"Kay, thanks, Nicky-boy, bye!" Holmes hung up. "He needs to get laid. Right, introductions. John, this is Dr. Bruce Banner. Big guy, Dr. John Watson."

"Pleasure to meet you," John said, shaking Banner's hand.

"You as well."

"You'll get to meet Pepper when she gets home from work," Holmes said. "She has meetings all day."

"Aren't you supposed to go to one of those?" Banner asked.

Holmes waved him off. "It's in the afternoon and with R&D. I don't actually have to be there. I just have to talk to them over the phone. They need to learn how to do things by themselves anyway. So, Watson," Holmes said, turning towards John. "did you clean up anything in my old flat before you touched the machine in the corner, or was that first?"

"First. Holmes, what is going on?"

Holmes drank some coffee and glanced at Banner. "Nuh uh, Tony," he said. Who was Tony? "He's your friend, you explain."

"We should get Cap here. He could help with the whole past to future thing," Holmes replied.

"He's probably training. He'll be up for lunch. Just tell him." Holmes and Banner had a staring contest.

"Tell me what, Holmes?"

Banner gestured towards John and Holmes fidgeted. "Well, first things first, I was never Mycroft's brother. I just appeared in his little club one day in 1885. I changed my accent and took the name Sherlock Holmes to blend in. My real name is Tony Stark and you're in 2013."

"Smooth," Banner said.

"You're joking, Holmes. This is all just an elaborate prank. You probably drugged your flat or something. It's not funny."

"Watson." He paused. "John, you're one of my closest friends. It's difficult for me to get close to people, but you managed to do it. If I didn't trust you, I never would've shown you how the arc reactor worked. I know it's hard to believe you traveled in time, but that pancake shaped thing you stood on and pushed a button, that was a time machine. I designed it to get back home. Mycroft was supposed to destroy it before something like this happened."

John nodded. He was a solider. He could handle this. "Alright, I believe you."

Holmes—no, Stark smirked. "No you don't, not entirely, not yet." He grabbed John's arm. "Come on, I'll show you the city."

Stark pulled John into the living room with the windows and pushed him towards the edge of the room.

Buildings—skyscrapers—rose into the open air, and these were skyscrapers. They were nothing like the skyscrapers of his London. Many were under construction. Thin plastic sheets in empty window frames were bowing in and out with the breeze. Giant cranes lifted large steel beams and crates to people in the buildings who grabbed on and pulled them in. John looked down below the tops of buildings and could see hundreds of cars rushing about and tiny people crowding the streets.

"Amazing."

"Best view of New York."

Banner snorted. "You're so full of yourself." John turned back to his friend.

Stark smiled and threw an arm around Banner. "But you love me." Banner rolled his eyes. "So, John, believe me now?"

"Yes, I do believe I do," he said in awe, glancing again at the city.

"Fantastic!"

He turned to look fully at his friend. "Not that it's great to see you Holmes, but could you please get me back to my wife?" Stark's face fell.

"Oh, yes. It won't take any time at all. I just need to tell JARVIS to build a time machine. Should be done by eight tonight, I estimate. I'll get right on that, excuse me." He fled from the room.

Banner shifted his feet. "Not that it's any of my business, but he missed you. From the quick explanation I got before he brought you up here, he knew you for most of the time he was stuck in the past. You mean a lot to him, and I get it, you miss your wife, but after the past few months he's had, I think he needs a friend like you, even if it's just for a day." Banner shrugged.

"Oh, bloody hell." John sighed. "I guess I should go apologize."

Banner smiled. "I'll show you to the lab."

They took the elevator down to the main shared lab. Banner touched the glass panel next to the door and entered in a key code. The door clicked open and something exploded on the other side.

Banner's eyes widened and pushed the door open. "Tony?"

"I'm good!" he shouted back from the corner where a portion of the wall was coming down.

"Tell that to the wall."

A piece of concrete shifted up and to the side, followed by another one being pushed by a red arm. Banner walked over and shifted a few more pieces before helping Stark stand. Banner was stronger than he looked.

"Just testing the new flight stabilizers."

Banner frowned. "How'd that work out?"

"Not to well." Stark stood in the center of a large open space. "Disassemble, Jarv. The initial power is too high, even if I lower it to the lowest setting, and yes, before you ask, I set JARVIS up to build the machine."

The floor opened up and a group of arms took apart the gloves and boots he was wearing. They reassembled them on the floor and Stark picked them up and dropped the heavy metal onto a table.

"I still need to work out the numbers."

"Seems like it. You sure nothing's broken?"

"Neh, I was able to block most of the wall with the armor."

Stark glanced up at John, who was still standing near the door.

Banner glanced at him. "Right, well, my samples still need another couple of hours, so I'm going to go start lunch and make sure Steve surfaces." The door slammed shut behind him.

Stark fidgeted. "Right, hello, John. This is my lab—shared lab. Bruce and I share this one. Much more high tech than my old one in the kitchen of my apartment." He looked down at a red arm and poked at an exposed wire.

John took a deep breath. He had to do it now. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't realize, and I may still not know what has happened with you these last few months, but I'm here now and I don't want to spend the entire time fighting."

Stark beamed. "Great, I'll show you what I've been working on, then. Couldn't show you this stuff before. You would've thought I was crazy."

"You are." Stark shrugged.

The arm thing rolled over with a glass filled with something green. "Is this edible, DUM-E?" The thing clicked its claw. "JARVIS?"

"_Yes, sir. DUM-E used only what was on the list of approved human-safe ingredients_."

"Unlike last time," he muttered and took a sip. "Thank you, DUM-E, now go clean up the blender, _again_."

"What is that?" John asked.

"What? DUM-E?"

"Is that its name?" DUM-E rolled over and held out its claw to John.

Stark nodded. "I built him in college. This is John, DUM-E."

He shook its claw. "Erm, nice to meet you," he said. DUM-E chirped and rolled back to the blender, putting it upright and grabbing a piece of fruit.

"He doesn't want a smoothie, you hunk of useless junk." It made a sad sound, dropped the fruit, and went back to cleaning the counter.

"What exactly is he?"

"An AI." John stared at him. "Artificial Intelligence, but a very basic form."

"Right." He still didn't know exactly what it meant. "What is JARVIS?"

"My AI who runs all my stuff. He's a very fancy butler. Say hello, Jarv."

"_Good Morning, Dr. Watson. Sorry if I scared you earlier._"

"It's quite alright. I just wasn't, um, expecting a voice from nowhere."

"He's programmed inside my phone, so while I was stuck in the past, he would run the numbers and calculations I needed."

"That piece of glass you were always muttering at is a phone?"

Stark nodded and pulled it out of his pocket. "Yep."

John examined the phone that Stark handed him. It didn't look like any phone he had seen in London, but he had an entire conversation with someone not an hour ago.

"What are these gloves and boots?"

"They're a part of my Iron Man suit. I'm a superhero."

"Really now."

Stark huffed. "JARVIS, show some footage of Iron Man from last week's fight."

A screen blinked into existence in front of them. A red and gold metal man flew through the sky. It's shoulder opened and a rocket flew out and hit the slime creature, which blew up.

"That's me. Those slime things were annoying. We would blow 'em up and they would just reform, but bigger. Turns out we had to spray this weird goop on them that dissolved their skin or whatever. Either way, they died after that, but not before almost destroying an entire town."

"We?"

"The Avengers. We're Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Play some footage of the others, JARVIS."

"Yeah, not full of yourself at all," John said.

"I didn't think of the name. That was Fury and his stupid council."

John was distracted by the screen showing an image of a man in a tight fitting red, white, and blue outfit throwing a curved shield into a slime monster.

"That's Captain America. His real name is Steve Rogers. You'll meet him at lunch."

The image changed to large green man smashing one of the monsters and yelling.

"That's the Hulk. He's the alter ego of Bruce." John remembered the quiet mannered man.

"How does Bruce become that?"

Tony snorted. "He was exposed to something called gamma radiation and it messed with his DNA. When he gets angry, he becomes the Hulk. Who, in my opinion, needs the chance to run around more often. We're building him a play room one floor up."

The next image was a blond haired man wielding a hammer. He summoned lightening and directed towards a giant wormhole in the sky.

"Yeah, that's Thor. He hasn't been back on Earth in a while, so he didn't get to fight in the slimy jell-o fight."

"Back on Earth?"

"He's an alien. The fight that footage is from is why the city is under construction."

The image changed to a red haired woman wearing a tight fitting suit fighting off eleven different men coming at her as she walked down a hallway.

"Black Widow, real name Natasha Romanoff. She's someone you don't want to piss off. She was in Russia during the jell-o fight. This was taken about year and a half ago. The poor idiot fighting the guy in the entrance is my driver Happy."

"She's...different."

Stark laughed. "Yes, she is. Last up in our merry boy band is Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye."

The video changed to a man in a similar outfit to Miss Romanoff. He had a quiver on his back and a bow cocked. He fired it and the slime monster exploded. He pulled another arrow and released it.

"He's a hell of a sniper. I'm pretty sure I have a video of him shooting something without turning to look at it. Natasha and Clint will probably be by for dinner. If they don't get sent on a mission before that."

"Mission? What is it that they do?"

"They're spies. They work for Fury, the angry pirate I was talking to."

The rest of the hour went quickly. Stark explained what the screen was that they watched the clips on and a bit about modern technology, which fascinated John to no end.

"_Sir, lunch is ready. Dr. Banner has explained the situation to Captain Rogers._"

"Awesome. We'll be right up. Let's go, Watson. Lunch time awaits."

The lift ride was a short one and the duo walked into the kitchen to grab plates to take to the informal dining room off to the side.

"Hello," a blond man said. "You must be Dr. Watson. I'm Steve Rogers." They shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers." Stark started snickering and Banner smacked his head. John furrowed his brows at the pair.

"Ignore him," Rogers said. "Call me Steve, please."

"Is it customary for people to call each other by their first names?" John questioned.

Rogers nodded. Stark yelled out, "I thought that would've been obvious, John. Come on, grab a plate and a sandwich."

Rogers smirked and shrugged, grabbing a plate of food and going into the dining room with John following. Banner retrieved the drinks and sat down to the right of Stark, who was at the head of the table. John sat to his left (across from Banner) with Rogers on his left.

John tried one of Banner's sandwiches. "This is delicious." He had made lunch using a few recipes he learnt while in some place called New Orleans.

Banner flushed. "Thank you." John nodded back in response.

"So, John," Rogers said, "what was Tony like back in London?"

"Insufferable."

Banner and Rogers chuckled while Stark choked on his lunch.

"I resent that."

"It's true, though," Banner said.

Stark pouted. "Doesn't mean you have to agree," he mumbled over their laughing.

"What did you guys do anyway?" Banner asked.

"We solved crimes," John replied.

Rogers looked incredulous. "You were part of the police?" he asked Stark.

"Pfft, no. Consulting detective. John here was my faithful companion who was there to do my bidding."

John scowled. "Bidding? Is that what you're calling it, now? I seem to remember a lot of trickery and you forgetting your gun just so I would follow you."

Stark shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Why did you have a gun?" Rogers asked.

"How else was I going to stop the criminals?" replied Stark.

"You used lipstick once if I recall," John said.

"Lipstick?" Rogers questioned.

Stark swallowed what was in his mouth. "Jammed into machine gun. It was simple to make. The Royal Army used a very specific type of machine gun which used specially made bullets. By taking a lipstick container that was the same size, I could jam the gun. They weren't any the wiser; the bullet was just fed in."

"You were also dressed as a woman."

Banner snickered. "I don't see you pulling that off, Tony."

Rogers asked, "Why did you dress as a woman?"

"It was to sneak onto the train John and his new wife Mary were on. If they had spotted me, I probably would've gotten killed."

"You didn't even make a very _good_ woman, Holmes. I'm not sure how they didn't see right through it."

"They didn't _observe_."

John huffed. "You still had stubble on your face."

"You're right, John, they were idiots." Banner and Rogers smiled at the banter of the two friends.

"Who had stubble on their face?" a new voice asked. Clint Barton, if John remembered correctly, walked into the dining room, plate in one hand and drink in the other. He had on a similar outfit to what he was wearing in the video, quiver included.

"I feel like we're singing Sweeney Todd," Stark commented.

"Hello, Clint, have a seat," Rogers said. Barton sat next to Banner.

"Singing?" John asked.

Stark explained. "The original stories were adapted into a musical in the past forty years or so and then a few years ago it was made into a movie." He turned towards Barton. "Feathers, I have your new arrowheads."

"I heard. Fury's eye patch is _still_ smoking." Tony laughed. "Anyway, stubble?"

"Tony dressed as a woman," Banner said and further explanation got cut off when Barton started laughing.

"It's not _that_ funny, Birdbrain."

"Yes, it is. The great Tony Stark dressed as a woman. Why?"

"I had to sneak onto a train. It was either that or a nun costume."

"Train? Who takes trains anymore?" he asked.

"It was a long time ago."

"Right, Stark, whatever. Who's your friend?"

"Dr. John Watson. John, Clint Barton."

Barton nodded his head in recognition. "Nice to meet you. You know, Bruce, this sandwich tastes just like this one sandwich I had while stationed in New Orleans. I think the owner of the shop's name was Tammy."

Banner paused while taking a bite. "What?"

"SHIELD's been watching you since your accident, big guy," Stark informed him. "The owner of the shop is owned by a deep cover agent. It's also a front for a SHIELD safe house, artillery and weapons' storage, and a stop to get information."

"You're not supposed to know about that," Rogers said, frowning.

"Neither are you since you aren't a full-time agent. Why are you defending them?"

"As the only full-time SHIELD agent here," Barton said, "I have to agree with Cap. You aren't supposed to know about that. However, he's right Bruce. Sorry. SHIELD keeps everyone under watch."

"I kind of figured since Natasha had no issues finding me."

Barton 'hmm'ed in agreement. "Dr. Watson, what type of doctorate do you have?"

"Medical."

"Really. Interesting. And you're from London?"

Stark stood up. "Nuh uh. You are _not_ interrogating my friend. John, you done?

"Oh, lay off it, Stark. You know Nat is going to do the same thing when she meets him tonight. Besides, if you're going to bring mysterious boyfriends home, we have to make sure they're good enough for you."

"Funny, Barton, real funny." Barton smiled, mouth full. "John?"

John nodded and wiped his mouth. "Lunch was delicious."

Banner thanked him as Stark and he cleaned up their dishes. Before they went back down to the lab, Stark stuck his head into the dining room and told Barton when he was done to come pick up his equipment.

The second half of the day went about the same as before lunch. Stark explained various future devices to John, which included the computer (and by extension, the internet), the blender (DUM-E made more smoothies), cell phones, and robots to help explain his AIs in simpler terms.

Barton, along with Banner, came down halfway through their computer explanation to get his new arrowheads. It was fascinating to watch them screw onto the existing arrows. He tested one with his bow at the already destroyed wall since the padding behind it was falling to the ground. It allowed for a soft surface for the arrowhead to hit. They worked perfectly, just like Stark predicted.

Banner had gone back to work in his corner of the shared lab. Many of his more volatile chemicals were in his private lab at the other end of the building. According to him, Stark causes his fair share of explosions that tend to shake the room a bit. John could see that being an issue.

The archer questioned John's lack of computer knowledge, but after a drink offer from DUM-E, left in a hurry. Stark praised his AI for getting rid of the annoying agent and poured the inedible drink down the drain.

Stark left him to search the internet while he took a very frustrating conference call from his research and development department. John instead went to talk with Banner for the hour and learnt that the scientist was trying to find a cure for the Hulk.

"So far, all I've learned is that I can't get sick."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"What is it in your blood that prevents you from getting sick? I know the Hulk has something to do with it, it can't _just_ be him. His presence must create some type of chemical that fights off diseases. Maybe instead of focusing on how to get rid of him, you need to focus on how he can help find cures for other things, and in the process, you may stumble across the answer."

Something dawned in Banner's eyes. "I'm an idiot." He turned to a computer screen and started typing various information in. "Thank you," he said, turning to John for second before turning back to the screen.

John smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad I could help." He wandered back over to an open screen near Stark and waited until his call was done.

"So," he said, "what has Bruce all excited?"

"I suggested he look into finding a cure for a Hulk a different way by finding a cure for other diseases."

Stark smiled. "Way to go, John. Oh, almost forgot, JARVIS, order dinner for seven people for six o'clock. Chinese tonight."

"_Right away, sir_."

It was only four o'clock. John wanted to ask about the progress for the time machine home, but he resisted. He didn't want to remind his friend that they only had a few hours together.

The next two hours passed with Stark trying on his new boots and gloves again to test out the flight capabilities. He flew around for a bit, seemingly satisfied with the results. He put on the current fight ready suit to sedate John's curiosity about the suit and what it looked like up close. It was much more impressive than it looked on screen. The plates moved fluidly with each movement Stark made. They constantly readjusted themselves to stay in sync with his body and the other plates.

"Amazing. Simply amazing."

The face plate popped up and Stark smirked down at him. With the suit on, he was a few inches taller than the doctor.

"Knew you would think so, Watson," he said with a slight hint of an English accent.

"_Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, sir. Miss Potts is in the living room and is requesting your presence._"

"Okay, thanks, JARVIS." Stark flicked his wrists, opening the suit up. He stepped out and the plates formed back into the front of the suit. It walked itself over to a hole in the wall where arms came out and took the various pieces apart and flew them away into some unknown part of the tower. "Jarv, call Bruce up for dinner in five."

"_Of course, sir_."

"He'll forget otherwise. Come along, John," Stark said, leading him back to the lift.

"What exactly is SHIELD?" The question had been bugging him since lunch.

"Super secret spy agency." The doors opened. "Pepper!"

A beautiful red haired woman stood up from the couch. She had on a pressed cream colored suit jacket and matching skirt. Three-inch cream heels completed the outfit and her hair was down around her shoulders.

"Evening, Tony." They embraced over the back of the couch and kissed.

"Pep, this is John. John, my girlfriend Pepper Potts."

"Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson. I've heard a lot about you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Potts. I've always wanted to meet the woman who could put up with Holmes for an extended amount of time."

Pepper laughed. "Oh, it's a full-time job, alright, and call me Pepper, please." John smiled.

"Then you must call me John."

"Great." She turned back to Stark. "Now, Tony, I'm going to go change." She slipped off her heels as she talked. "There's a pile of papers—that pile—" She pointed. "—that you need to sign. I've marked where. You know the drill. I'll be right back and I expect those signed." She started walking towards a corridor on the opposite side of the penthouse floor from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am." He mock saluted and climbed over the back of the couch.

John rolled his eyes and walked around the piece of furniture. "I see you still haven't gained any sense of appreciation for furniture by not walking on it."

Stark waved away his complaints. He managed to sign all of the papers before Pepper came back out, jeans (Stark had explained what the pants were) and a light blue short sleeved shirt on. She wasn't wearing shoes.

"Papers done?"

"Yes, honey."

She hit him on the arm. "Smart ass."

The lift opened and Banner and a young brown haired woman stepped out. The woman was pushing a table covered in bags. Banner walked into the kitchen.

"Mr. Stark. Miss Potts," she greeted.

"Put the food in the kitchen, Miss Harris," Pepper said. The woman nodded.

"Who's that?" Stark asked. He stood up and led the way to the kitchen to get food.

"The new intern for the front desk."

Miss Harris smiled shyly at Stark as they passed each other. She was headed back to the lift, which had opened, letting Rogers, Barton, and Miss Romanoff walk off.

Plates, chopsticks, and food was passed around. They each carried a few of the containers into the dining room to place on the table. He was introduced to the last member of the large group. She seemed harmless enough, but he remembered the video Stark showed him. Natasha, as she said he could call her, was wearing dark jeans, a red shirt, and a black leather jacket.

"Fury has told me to inform you, Stark," Natasha said, "that SHIELD knows about Dr. John Watson and your false identity as Sherlock Holmes."

Stark shrugged. "I kind of figured. I can't take a piss without you knowing about it."

"And since everyone now knows what's going on," Pepper said, changing the subject and turned to John, "do you have any stories of Tony?"

John smirked. This was his chance to get back at Stark for all his tricks. For the next few hours, John regaled the group with Stark's numerous mishaps while on cases. He didn't mention anything that would get Stark in trouble with Pepper. He wasn't that cruel. Stark helped tell some parts when John got the details wrong, but he mostly let the doctor tell the stories.

By the time ten o'clock rolled around, the group had started to break up, going back to doing their own thing or heading off to bed. John bid goodbye to the group and followed Stark and Banner down to the lab. It was time for him to go home.

Stark double checked the machine that was sitting in the room. It looked similar to the bulky machine sitting in the corner of the old flat, but the side panel was much thinner and instead of numerous knobs and buttons, it had a screen.

"Alright, John, it's all ready," Stark said, somber.

John sighed and grabbed onto Stark, hugging him. Stark yelped in surprise, but hugged him back with just as much strength.

"I'll miss you, Holmes. You were my best friend, and I could _never_ forget you. Keep yourself safe. You aren't indestructible." They broke the hug.

Stark smiled back. "I know, Watson. You keep yourself safe, as well. Mary is a lovely woman; don't lose her."

John nodded and stepped back onto the machine.

"Oh, before I forget, here." Stark handed John a small box. He opened it and stared down at the small silver circle.

"What is it?"

"A teething ring."

"In case you didn't notice, Holmes, I have all my teeth."

Stark smiled. "But your kid doesn't."

"What?" John shouted. He didn't have any children, and Mary hadn't said she was pregnant.

Stark waved. "Goodbye John. Give Mary and Mycroft my best." He pressed the button and the world dissolved into bright blue and a loud bang.

He appeared with a bang in early twentieth century London. He stumbled a step off the machine, but the return trip was no where near as painful as going.

John ignored Mrs. Hudson's frantic cries over the two explosions in under twenty minutes and raced home to his wife.

"Mary!" he shouted.

"John? What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Are you pregnant?"

Mary nodded slowly. "I just found out this morning. I was going to tell you when you got home. How did you find out?"

John laughed happily and hugged his wife. "Holmes, of course."

Mary smiled and laughed with her husband. "Of course."

_Iamabreak_

"You know," Bruce said from the other side of the room, "I don't think he knew his wife was pregnant."

Tony shrugged. "It was obvious. When he arrived, he had the faint smell of vomit clinging to him. Not from him, but someone else, most likely Mary."

"Morning sickness," Bruce concluded.

"Exactly. I also looked up the birth of his first born and it would make sense that the pregnancy was now."

"That's cheating."

Tony laughed and threw his arm around the good doctor. "It's using all of my resources. Now explain to me your big breakthrough."

_The End._

* * *

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**~Lord Rebecca-sama**


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